


Fold Our Hands to Soon Forget

by Two_for_Slashing



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Hockey Big Bang 2018, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pavel is a good Russian boy who deserves love, Religious Guilt, Soft Hockey Boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:12:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_for_Slashing/pseuds/Two_for_Slashing
Summary: He is attractive.  Pavel knows this.  He has known this.  He only allows the acknowledgement to register very briefly before he shoves it away, reminding himself that it is a bad thought.  That it is wrong for him to even think of that.  That Mika is most definitely not attracted to him.  That he is not attracted to Mika.  That he will not act on anything, because he will not sin.  He will be good for God and for Russia, and that will be enough for Pavel.He cannot have this, ever.





	Fold Our Hands to Soon Forget

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WORK. WAS SUCH. A LABOR OF LOVE.
> 
> Finally, after months and months of writing and editing...I present to you a story that I am not only proud of, but consider to be one of the best pieces I've produced in recent years.
> 
> To all in the Hockey Big Bang community - thank you for holding the challenge and for allowing me to have an opportunity to actually create a work like this. It was an intensive process but I am so glad I could complete it. 
> 
> And to Evian Fork, who created absolutely beautiful artwork for this story - thank you so much for giving another form to my story! You can view her work here: https://evian-fork.dreamwidth.org/1456.html and see the main header below!
> 
> Obviously this is a work of fiction. I did my best to follow the Rangers' 2016-2017 and 2017-2018 seasons as best as possible but obviously not everything is included or accurate - again, this is a work of fiction so liberties are taken with the timeline as needed. 
> 
> Please enjoy. Any and all comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Title taken from "Glass Coughs" by Foxing.

 

It is the spring of 2016 when Pavel decides to sign with the New York Rangers.

It is not an easy decision. Playing with SKA St. Petersburg had been electrifying. Pavel had been introduced to an entirely different world within his very own home country that he had barely known existed in Cherepovets. His teammates were the things of legends, the city itself as old and mystical as the stories he had heard in school.

His parents had given him everything they could. His mother had raised him to hold his head high and to never stop skating. His father had slaved away in the factory, hours and hours of long weeks spent tending to steel. They came to every game they could, their money going in to what they could afford to keep Pavel on the ice.

The least he could do to repay them, he thinks as he waits on the phone with his agent for New York to respond, is to play professionally in the NHL. Not many others had ever been drafted from Cherepovets. He wanted his parents to have a jersey with their family name on it, one that came from outside of Russia.

He agrees to a three year, entry-level contract. The monetary terms sound decent, but he only understands so much of how the American dollar works. As long as it is enough for him to keep up with his future teammates and for his parents to stay comfy back home, Pavel is happy.

His mother is happy too, but she still cries.

His father is happy too, but he will still spend most of his waking hours toiling away in the factory.

Pavel is happy too, but he still gets down on his knees long after the darkness has settled over their home and every inch of the house has grown silent to beg God to please, please help him.

_Please, Lord, please, whatever I do, do not hate me._

It has been the same prayer for several years.

 

+

He has always had NHL ambitions ever since he was a child, but getting the opportunity to play professionally is only part of the reason why Pavel agrees to his contract.

The United States had never been part of the plan, or Canada. They had seemed even more far from where his future was heading when SKA St. Petersburg signed him. Pavel tried to put all that bothered him behind him, to focus on the game, to make his country proud.

But he couldn't make his country proud, and so he needed to leave it.

No one understood, because no one really knew. Only God, and Pavel prayed and prayed he would never be found out, that it would stay deep within him, only to be revealed if he so chose.

Russia would not accept him, and so Pavel needed to go.

 

+

He arrives in America for the first time during a warm weekend in early July. His host family speaks only English, but they smile at him and show him around as if their house is just as much Pavel's as it is theirs. Pavel has his own room. They give him some of their things to go along with his things, and his things had been so few. Together they all use Google Translate to communicate.

That first weekend is filled with outings in backyards on lounge chairs beside pools, children racing around while adults tend to grills filled with smoking meats and pluck bottles of alcohol from coolers. People stare at him only a little bit, and a group of boys around his age challenge him to a game of badminton. There is soccer on the television.

As the sky begins to darken in preparation of night there are fireworks, what seems like hundreds of them, lighting up the sky in red, white, and blue. People on the television sing America's songs, and his host family and all the other families cry out for God to bless America.

Pavel decides he could like it here. It is not Russia by any means, but he could like it anyway.

When he prays at night he does not feel the same urgency as he did at home.

He still waits for the silence anyway.

 

+

New York City is massive, and it is loud, and there is movement everywhere. Pavel steps off the train into a giant terminal filled with people that bump him as if he is not even there. They stand on stone steps and take pictures. They flit upstairs and downstairs, in all directions, always looking as if they know where they are going.

Madison Square Garden is not what he was expecting. From the outside it doesn't even look like an arena, and there are even more people shoving past him than where the trains come in. When he enters it is sterile and new and flashy, not at all like the old rinks back in Russia.

The ice feels like home. Pavel stands just on the other side of the boards, gazing upwards at the jumbotron and the banners and all the retired jerseys. He breathes in and the air is cool and refreshing. It quells whatever in him was beginning to get jittery. Perhaps, he thinks, he could like playing here. He could like this city.

Changing for the first practice is awkward. Pavel keeps his eyes on his beat up hockey bag as he works himself into his practice uniform. His teammates move around him, all chatting in English, and Pavel gets a word here and there that he knows, but it is not enough to keep up. He can hear other accents too, but it is accented English, and his heart pangs with jealousy. He has not learned English well enough to talk to his teammates yet. He has no other Russians there to speak with, to help him.

He is alone in more ways than one.

A bag drops onto the floor next to him, followed by a body in the neighboring stall. Pavel pauses, glancing to his side. He is met with a blinding grin and crinkled dark eyes framed by curly dark hair.

Pavel blinks slowly, unsure what to do. He knows he has seen this teammate before, but he doesn't know his name.

"Привет!" his stallmate booms, smile growing wider. Pavel takes in the American accent and the confidence with which his teammate is greeting him in his native tongue. He doesn't know what is going on here, but it could be exciting. "Меня зовут Chris Kreider. Как Вас зовут?"

The pronunciation is off just a bit, and Pavel feels his heart drop. He is glad he didn't get too excited at the prospect of having someone to speak Russian with. "Say wrong," he says. "Words not right. English."

Chris Kreider's smile falters just a bit, as if he can't believe someone is telling him he's speaking Russian incorrectly, especially a Russian. "Oh," he breathes out, shrugging. "English? Okay. My name is Chris Kreider."

Pavel points to himself. "I am Pavel. I learn English to play hockey good in America. You no speak Russian, only English."

"But I know Russian fluently," Chris protests. "I studied it in college."

Pavel thinks he knows what a college is but he isn't sure. He's never been to one but he knows they have them in Russia. Before he can respond someone yells "Is your plan to speak Russian to the rookie backfiring already, Kreids?", and then the whole locker room is chuckling, their eyes on Pavel and Chris.

Pavel sits up straighter, smiling softly. Teammates who have barely glanced at him are now giving him attention, looking at him like he could belong. He likes the feeling, even though he knows the language isn't there just yet.

Chris glares at everyone and then he rolls his eyes, flushing red. "Shut up, Haysie. At least I graduated from college."

The team starts laughing a bit louder, and Pavel decides to join in.

 

+

Chris becomes his first American friend.

Pavel had not planned for that. If he is being honest, he is a bit wary regarding his teammate. Chris is nice. He would not deny that. And he means well. Pavel would not deny that either. But Chris was definitely not as low maintenance as he liked to think he was.

He switched between skating after Pavel and J.T. Miller during practice. Pavel thought J.T. was okay. He is a bit too loudly opinionated for his tastes, and Pavel isn't entirely sure but he thinks J.T. is convinced he has some sort of connection to the election which is ridiculous. Pavel is the son of a steelworker and his mother keeps house. He does not understand these things about meddling. He is just a proud Russian who wants to play hockey, nothing more. But J.T. is a proud American and he narrows his eyes a bit too much at Pavel whenever he responds to Chris' bad attempts at Russian.

That is probably the most annoying thing about Chris. Pavel knows he is eager to make his Russian better and he wants to make Pavel more comfortable. But Pavel is not in the locker room to learn Russian. He has his locker room back home for Russian. The locker room here in New York is where he must learn English. Chris becomes his first American friend because he will talk to Pavel in any language. The other guys look at him, but they barely approach with more than a few words or helmet taps in practice.

Pavel's heart sinks every time he can feel an interaction wither away to nothing. His heart has been sinking too much since he came to New York, and it is a very tiring feeling.

Chris becomes his first American friend because he is not afraid. The challenges only seem to make him push harder. Pavel would admire his determination if he wasn't the direct focus of it. To be honest, it is a bit intimidating, and Pavel drifts closer and closer to full blown fear every single time Chris rushes him at the rink, a big happy grin on his face and yelling morning pleasantries in Russian.

Pavel will humor Chris for now, even though the way he pronounces "Good morning!" is beginning to grate on his nerves.

 

+

He makes the mistake of allowing Chris to come over to his apartment.

Pavel made the hard decision of leaving his host family to move to a small apartment in New York City. It is not far from Madison Square Garden and the subway that he is still learning to navigate. Connecticut was a nice place to begin his American journey, but to live there and and commute into the city would be impossible. He also knows that Coach Vigneault is thinking of including him on the opening night roster. To be closer to the arena is to be closer to the goal of playing in the NHL. If he has to go back to Connecticut for Hartford he knows his host family will help him. They also know they always have a place to stay if they want to come in to the city to see him play.

But he is lonely in his apartment, and Chris seems eager to want to hang out with anybody on the team, so he suggests take-out for dinner.

Chris spends a few minutes wandering from room to room while Pavel unloads the Italian they bought onto paper plates he is keeping in his cabinets. He watches him discreetly, seeing how Chris gets up close to pictures, DVDs, CDs, as if he is searching for secret meanings in every single possession Pavel took with him to America.

Pavel is aware that Chris is very smart. But he does not want Chris to be smart about him.

He is glad that the one thing he does not want Chris to know about is not very obvious.

He makes a mental note to thank God about that fact when he prays before bed.

 

+

"I'm disappointed," Chris says around a mouthful of lasagna.

Pavel glances up at him, working a knife through his chicken parmesan. It is not the comfort of a nice warm borscht but Pavel is more than happy to admit it is pretty damn close. "Disappoint in what?" It can't be the food. It is too good.

"No Dostoevsky, or Tolstoy, or Chekhov, or even Nabokov. No great Russian authors at _all_. And your movies. All American action films."

Pavel rolls his eyes, sighing. He has a fondness for Tom Cruise and Liam Neeson that does not embarrass him. But those authors. He knows who they are, obviously, for Russia has great culture and its' literature is a great representation of that. He knows the stories too, having heard many of them in school from teachers who were too enthusiastic about analyzing every single page. But those authors wrote doorstoppers that Pavel has merely glanced at.

Books should not be that big, even if they were written by great Russians.

"No books," he responds, waving his hand dismissively. "No time for read. Too much hockey. And football."

"Football?" Chris tilts his head.

"Yes. Game with big white ball."

" _Oh_. You mean soccer. I know what that is. I just don't follow it."

It is now time for Pavel to be disappointed. He had forgotten that in America, football was something else and soccer was the word they gave his sport. "I disappoint," he says, purposefully mocking Chris' tone. He gets a glare for that, and he can barely hide his smile in response. "You Americans do not appreciate great sport, and great country of sport. Russia is great country of football soccer, and hockey."

"What country got banned from tournaments for doping?" Chris asks, trying to look like he doesn't know the answer.

Pavel narrows his eyes at his friend, digs through the sauce on his chicken to find a mushed up piece of tomato, and then promptly flicks it across the table.

The squawking noises Chris utters when it hits his cheek is more than enough to make up for his slander against Russia.

 

+

"You like football?"

Pavel looks up from stuffing his shoulder pads into his bag. Mika Zibanejad is sitting in Chris' stall. He is looking at Pavel with his big brown eyes and a tentative smile on his face. He has already changed into a sweatshirt and shorts.

Pavel stares at the logo on his sweatshirt. He would recognize the gold cross and blue shield anywhere.

Something warm blossoms in the middle of his chest. When he feels the smile starting to form on his face he does not fight it.

"Yes." Pavel starts nodding, unsure of what to say next. "Sweden," he decides, and he gestures at Mika's sweatshirt. "Is good team."

Mika looks down at his sweatshirt. "It's the best team," he counters with a small smile.

Well, no. Pavel knows that it is Russia. But he can see the start of something beginning between them, and he does not want to lose the chance at whatever it may be. "Who tell you? About football?"

He watches Mika's eyes shift across the room. Chris is hovering over J.T.'s stall, trying to explain the differences between similes and metaphors. Pavel isn't sure what those two things are but he has heard Chris saying them over and over to J.T. in practice the past few days. He wasn't sure when he had time to speak to Mika about Pavel, but it seems that he fit it in to his busy lecturing schedule somewhere.

"Ah. He has much to say, all time."

Mika cracks a smile. "That's one way of putting it. So. Do you play Fifa?"

Pavel stares at Mika hard for a second. "You think I stupid and not play Fifa?"

"Well you root for Russia, so..."

Pavel glowers at Mika, who flashes him a bright grin. "Is not nice to keep insulting home country. I say Sweden good team too."

"Hey, you're right about that. I'm going to have the guys over tomorrow after we skate for a tournament and some food. You should come. Prove to me you're right about Russia."

The look he is giving Pavel is so genuine that it makes the feeling that blossomed in Pavel's chest double in size. He has gone out to dinner with the team, but this, something at one of their places? It is a huge step for Pavel.

"Yes. Okay. I be there."

"Cool." Mika nods and stands up.

Pavel catches Chris' eye from across the locker room. His friend sends him a warm smile.

 

+

Pavel remembered Brady Skjei the first day he saw him in the locker room. He was not sure if Brady remembered him from World Juniors. He knows that if Brady was ever bored and Googled his name he would find that picture of the two of them, Pavel sweeping down on him like a hawk racing to catch a field mouse, mouth open in a scream.

It was not his proudest moment then, and it is not his proudest moment now.

But the way Brady Skjei jumps on him mere seconds after he passes Pavel the puck that he flings at the net with nothing but adrenaline guiding it in to become a goal makes Pavel think that maybe it is okay if he does remember him.

Things are beginning to change for him.

The goal is a nice addition.

 

+

The pains have always existed. They came before, in Russia, and they have followed him here to New York.

Pavel lays in bed in his apartment, barely able to move. He breathes out through his teeth, a low hissing noise that he repeats again and again to try to distract himself. If he does not pay attention to the pain it does not bother him as much - that is what he keeps telling himself again and again, even though he knows he is lying.

It radiates up his spine and back down his spine and he shakes slightly, waiting for it to pass. He is too young for this, he thinks, too young for such pains, especially since he has never had a bad injury. One or two bad hits, yes, but nothing that kept him out for long.

But these pains. These pains are nothing short of brutal.

They must be a punishment, he thinks as he clenches his fists, waiting for the next wave to pass. A punishment from God. That is what he was told in school, at church, by the Patriarch. He has upset God, and God has punished him with these pains, because Pavel has sinned, Pavel has committed the worst sin of the church, in all of Russia, even though he has never laid a hand on another man like that, but his thoughts, sometimes he cannot keep his thoughts from going there, from -

The shrill ring of his cellphone yanks Pavel straight from his thoughts and back to reality.

"Are you not coming to practice, Buch?" Chris asks.

"My back," Pavel breathes softly, and the words seem to barely have left his mouth before Chris has hung up, undoubtedly to call their trainer.

Pavel thinks back to a few nights ago, when he had been on the phone to his parents all the way back in Cherepovets, both of them staying up late even though his father had work in the morning. _Did you see my goal?_ he had said to them, his voice filled to the brim with happiness. _They even saved the puck for me!_

Mere nights ago he had scored his first ever goal in the NHL. He had been at the top of the world, ready to see what came next. Now he was at the bottom of it, waiting for the trainer and whatever medical team would arrive to whisk him to the hospital.

He was not ready to see what came after that.

 

+

There is a short stay with a doctor and many nurses prodding at him, and then he gets to go home. But at home there are months of lying in bed, of the pain. There is rehab. But there is no skating. No hockey.

There are phone calls to his crying mother and many, many assurances that he was going to be okay. He knows she would fly to America if she could afford it. But Pavel's parents have never left Russia before, and he will not ask them to come over for this.

His host family visits often, and his heart is seized with a gratefulness so deep every time the door opens and they are the ones on the other side of it. They bring food and watch Ranger games with him, and they do not pass comments at the pained look on Pavel's face as he watches his team play without him.

It is weird to hear the commentators on TV talk about him as if they don't know Pavel is lying at home, watching everything.

Chris visits often too. He seems to be taking Pavel's back pains seriously, as he does not even try to converse with him in Russian. Sometimes he brings food or a movie or once a book by a man named Hemingway that he claimed was as good as all the Russian authors Pavel doesn't read. Pavel thanks him where it is appropriate and sighs with exasperation at everything else, and he can tell by the expression on Chris' face that he knows he is helping him feel better.

Sometimes he brings teammates. Jimmy Vesey and Brady Skjei come over for a few hours to watch the New England Patriots with him and Chris, and Pavel tries to understand Jimmy and Chris as they explain why New England is the team to root for while Brady vehemently argues against them. Mika comes too with his PlayStation and he and Chris and Pavel spend hours playing Fifa, and there is much laughing between them as Chris utterly fails at understanding anything about the greatest sport second only to hockey. Mac visits as well, but he doesn't talk much and when he does it is about how he looks forward to Pavel being back on the team.

Pavel likes that he is expected back. It is nice knowing that he is wanted on the Rangers.

 

+

When he is finally deemed well enough to skate again, Coach Vigneault makes the suggestion that Pavel head down to Hartford for a bit to condition himself and get back into the swing of the game.

"It's only for a few games," he says with a nonchalance that clearly shows that he does not care that he is crushing Pavel's soul.

So down to Hartford he goes.

The guys on the Wolf Pack are nice enough, and the fans pack the stands for the games. But Hartford is an interesting place, and Pavel knows once he goes back up he will do all he can to not get sent back down.

 

+

Chris crushes him against the boards his first practice back, screaming happily in his ear.

Mika taps him on the back of his skates with his stick. "Come over for a tournament soon. Playing against Chris is getting really depressing."

"Welcome back rookie," Mac nods at him as Step pats his helmet.

He gets extra shin taps from Brady and Jimmy.

The chill from the ice at the Garden is sweeter than any rink he has ever been on.

 

+

He finds himself in Mika's apartment later that night. And a few days after that. And pretty much any afternoon they are off or any day they have a practice or there are no games to interfere with sitting on a couch and playing Fifa for several hours.

Chris is there sometimes. Occasionally Mika will ask the other guys to come too. Some of them, like Haysie or Brady or J.T., get really into playing the game, and the entire night turns into beer after beer and yelling about cheating at Fifa.

Sometimes Mika recruits Quickie to gang up on Pavel as Team Sweden and there is much arguing about who is the better country.

The answer is always Russia. Pavel will not have it any other way, no matter what Mika or Quickie or even Mats say about Scandinavia.

But more than often it is just him and Mika.

Sometimes they start off playing Fifa and then abandon the game in favor of watching actual football. Mika is very knowledgeable about the sport. He loves Messi almost as much as Pavel loves Messi. He has so many different players' stats memorized. He speaks fondly of all of the games he watched with his family as a child.

"I actually played football when I was a kid," he remarks one night.

They have been playing Fifa for around five hours. Not that Pavel is keeping track of the time or anything. And he most certainly doesn't know that they are tied for the amount of wins in each round they're playing. They don't usually declare stalemates in their tournaments, but tonight could be one of those rare nights where they do. They have a game tomorrow night in New Jersey.

Pavel glances at Mika briefly before returning his gaze to the game so he doesn't miss any of his plays. "You serious? Is cool. What position?"

"I started as a midfielder, but then I became a goalie."

Pavel barks out a laugh, blocking one of Sweden's shots.

Mika knocks their ankles together as he guides his player back towards the goal with the rebound. "What's so funny about that?"

Pavel stares at where their ankles are touching. His mind is telling him to move his leg away but he cannot seem to get his muscles to listen. "Is entertaining to think of you headbutting ball. Like Henrik, but no pads."

"It's not the most fun thing to do but I've gotten pretty good at it."

"Good enough you let ball mess up all that gel in hair?"

It is not one of Pavel's better attempts at a joke, but it seems to work anyway. Mika throws his head back and laughs. The sound is loud and full and _happy_.

Pavel watches the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. His eyes drift up to trace the curve of Mika's smile. It is as full as his laugh, and just as happy.

His heart thrums heavy in his chest, but his entire being feels as if he is floating.

He manages to get his eyes back on the TV just in time to stop another of Mika's shots. Mika taps along loudly beside him. "Do you play?"

Pavel's heart is still rapidly beating. It is almost painful. "Not on team. With friends."

"Cool. We should go to a park and pass a ball around sometime."

Pavel's hands jerk so hard on the controller that his goalie dives too soon and one of Mika's many rebounds go sailing in. Mika lets out a cheer as the pixelated Swedes run into one big happy huddle on the TV.

He stares at the screen, barely blinking.

He still has not managed to get his leg to move.

 

+

The wood under his knees is as hard and cold as it has been the last eight months. He still folds his hands the same way, slotted together and tight. He still whispers in soft Russian even though no one is around to hear him.

But for the first time in years, the prayer has changed.

_Please, Lord, please, do not tempt me. Please. Do not let me fall for him._

 

+

The end of the season comes at just the right moment.

It is absolutely soul crushing to get knocked out of the playoffs. It is even more soul crushing to be knocked out by the Senators. But Pavel knows when he is being given a break at the right time, and he very quietly thanks God for sending him away from the temptation.

Mika pulls him into half a hug on locker clean-out day. Pavel tries to ignore the heat that flames up on his cheeks as he pats him gently on the back. "Text me about the Confederation Cup. You going to any games?"

Pavel already has plans to attend as many games as he can. It is helpful that the tournament is being held in Russia. He made arrangements to meet up with his old SKA teammates when the tournament will be at the arena in St. Petersburg. "I be there. I send you many picture of great Russian stadium."

His promise gets a smile and eye roll out of Mika. "Sweden's are nicer," he says, nudging Pavel with his shoulder before he walks away.

He tries not to stare at Mika. Pavel is very, very lucky he has the whole summer to make his body forget the urges it was beginning to feel.

He is very lucky he has all summer to prove to God that he deserves forgiveness for his sins.

 

+

Pavel's mother clutches him tightly to her chest the moment he steps across the terminal. His father already has Pavel's suitcase, and he nods fondly at his son.

The ride home is full of happy chatter. Pavel feels full in the best possible way.

The summer is spent lazing around home for a few days before he helps his mother around the house. They visit family. Pavel plans a few quick trips for additional rest and relaxation.

He attends the Confederation Cup with his old SKA teammates. They all clap him on the back and ask him hundreds of questions about the NHL and the Rangers.

Pavel snaps a few quick pictures of the game and sends them to Mika.

 

+

Chris is already waiting for him in the parking lot at the rink. It is September, but the weather in New York is still warm and muggy.

Pavel hates the muggy warmness, but he is aching to be back on the ice.

Chris almost throws himself on top of Pavel's car, beaming brightly.

"Buch!" he cries out, yanking Pavel into a hug that turns aggressive quickly. He manages to keep Chris from mussing up his hair, but he struggles to keep Chris from smashing him into his side repeatedly.

"I just remember why I like home," he says once Chris has finally freed him.

His teammate and friend hums happily as they walk into the facility. "Oh stop Buch. I know you missed me."

Pavel scoffs at him, but he cannot hide a grin at the truth.

 

+

"You still owe me a game in the park."

Pavel tries not to pause as he finishes lacing up his skate, but his hands quiver just enough that he is afraid he is going to lose his grip. He knows that Mika has slid into the stall next to him.

He reminds himself to keep calm, that there is nothing wrong. He prayed without fail every single day this summer, even when he went away. He thanked God as much as he could for sending the temptation away. He asked Him to please remove anything that felt like feelings, reminding Him that he had always been so very good at not succumbing to these temptations.

Pavel sits back and regards Mika with a friendly smile. The off-season has been kind to his friend; his skin is a warm brown and he has gone and bleached half of his hair blonde. He looks relaxed and in shape. There is an easiness radiating from him that Pavel wishes he could copy.

He is attractive. Pavel knows this. He has known this. He only allows the acknowledgement to register very briefly before he shoves it away, reminding himself that it is a bad thought. That it is wrong for him to even think of that. That Mika is most definitely not attracted to him. That he is not attracted to Mika. That he will not act on anything, because he will not sin. He will be good for God and for Russia, and that will be enough for Pavel.

He cannot have this, ever.

Mika tilts his head slightly. "You okay?" he asks.

Pavel blinks, shaking his head. "Yes, just many thoughts in head." He waves his hands around, trying to play off zoning out. "Distracted by season, is all."

"Yeah, we'll see how this year plays out." Mika sighs, looking away. He stays silent. There is a distance that grows in his brown eyes. Pavel knows the look. They were all so disappointed with how the season ended last year. The team has planned to come back this year, but there is never a guarantee they will be as good as they want. Such is the way of hockey.

The distance evaporates as Mika looks back at him. "But before everything gets really busy. You and me and some football. Okay?"

Pavel knows that he could very easily tell Mika no. He doesn't even need to be mean about it. He could blame it on his back pains, or say that he has other things going on. He could avoid it entirely. Or he could bring Chris with him. And a bunch of the other guys on the team. He knows Mats likes kicking a ball around for fun.

But he does not want to tell Mika no. And there is a small part of him that does not want other people there.

He could use it as a way to prove that he is no longer being tempted. There is no way for him to really know unless he is presented with a situation.

"Okay. We will play."

The smile Mika gives him is nothing short of blinding. "Awesome. We'll plan soon." He pats Pavel on the knee before rising to head over to see Quickie, who has just arrived for practice.

Pavel watches him go.

He is not so sure his prayers were answered.

 

+

The park is near Mika's apartment. It is simple and typical of what Pavel has seen traveling around New York City. Children run across the playground watched by weary parents. Teenagers hang near the edges talking and older adults lounge on the benches in deep discussion smoking cigarettes.

No one seems to recognize them. Pavel feels at ease about that much.

Mika brings his ball along. Pavel finds him in the middle of a good size field in Nikes and a sweatshirt. He raises his eyebrows at Pavel as he approaches. There is no smile, but Pavel can see that he is trying to hide it.

Pavel cannot help but mimic his expression back at him. Mika grins openly in response.

His heart beats erratically in his chest from the anticipation.

Mika places the ball on the field. They face each other. The silence continues.

Pavel manages to beat Mika into a crouched position and the ball is his. He passes it back and forth between his feet as he races across the grass. He can hear Mika behind him. They are both laughing, and it is not long before Mika has caught up to him, pulling at his arm as he shoves his feet between Pavel's legs to knock the ball out and steal it.

Mika bursts ahead of him. He runs like he skates; fast, his strides long and full and so beautiful that Pavel cannot help but admire them. He surges along, following Mika from one end of the field to the other. Mika works his feet into fancy footwork and dodges Pavel as much as he can.

He can hear Mika laughing the closer he gets.

It is not until Pavel works his arms around Mika to hold him still, wedging his own foot between his legs to finally regain possession of the ball, that he hears that he is laughing with him.

Pavel likes to think he has a good sense of humor, and that many things entertain him, but the sound of his laughter mixing with Mika’s as they rush around on the verge of breathlessness - that is a foreign sound to his ears.

It makes his heart thunder loudly all the same.

They continue back and forth like this for a good hour before the passage of time finally registers to them.

Pavel will remember many things from this first day of playing football with Mika. The one he will remember the best is the sound of their shared laughter.

 

+

He is thankful for the silence of his apartment. Sometimes he misses having someone else around. But for the most part Pavel is happy he can be on his own and come and go as he pleases without a comment passed.

It is especially useful for his nightly routine, which always ends unfailingly with a prayer.

Pavel continues with what he has been asking for for months:

_Lord, please: if I am meant to succumb to this temptation, let me know the reason why. But if I do not have to do not let me. Please still the confusion of my heart._

 

+

They become the KZB line.

Chris circles Pavel like a shark hunting his prey at practice. Mika watches them with an amused expression on his face. "You ready to become the best lineys ever, Buch?" Chris coos at him, his grin so large it's practically swallowing his face.

Pavel rolls his eyes. "I rather be hunted by actual KGB."

"Maybe I am with the KGB, and that's why they named the line like that."

"You be disgrace to great country of Russia. Is why they name it KZB. You not good enough for G."

Pavel is still working hard on being good at making jokes in English, but he is pleased when Mika laughs all the same.

 

+

Even with no G, the KZB line becomes formidable early on.

Pavel is proud. He has waited a long time to finally be given the chance to prove that he is worthy not only of a spot in the NHL but with the Rangers. Having Chris and Mika playing with him is raising not only his value but each of their own.

He hadn't known what to think of the season. It still seems promising.

His personal life seems promising as well. He continues to meet Mika for football every few weeks. They chase each other around until one grows tired first. He has yet to give into any temptation, no matter where his thoughts may wander.

Pavel is hopeful he will finally be well.

 

+

Halloween sets his progress back in ways Pavel can't even begin to measure.

He dresses up as a gangster. He is not even sure which one. He just liked the costume. But if he had to judge by the hat with the red feather and the pinstripe suit, Pavel would assume he is an American gangster of some sort.

He would much rather go as a Russian gangster. His people are much more intimidating. But the Rangers have rented out a club for their party and he knows Halloween is supposed to be fun, so an American gangster he will be.

The party itself isn't bad. It's surprisingly crowded. There are three giant T-Rexs that end up being Jimmy, Brady, and Kevin. Mats is Xavier LaFlame again. Henrik is an actual IKEA bag.

Mika is wearing a basketball uniform and DJing. Pavel is not sure who he is supposed to be. He just knows Mika looks really, really _good_.

It is absolutely not fair that he looks so good in such a basic outfit.

And Pavel might have had some vodka, even if it is not as good as the vodka is back home. But one of the T-Rexes is egging him on to come play darts, and then another T-Rex is having him bet money in a pool game against one of his teammates that is dressed as that lady from Star Wars even though he doesn't know who either of them are.

There is dancing. Pavel is not much of a dancer but Mika knows how to mix good beats. He flails around the dancefloor for a bit with a few of the other guys until he hears someone calling "Buch!" repeatedly.

At first he thinks it is Chris. Chris _always_ calls him Buch.

But it is Mika, and he is waving Pavel up. If his insides weren't already soaring from all the vodka he had drunk earlier they are certainly soaring now at the way Mika is smiling at him.

They are in a room with around a hundred people and Mika is looking at Pavel like he is the only other person there.

Pavel feels his throat dry up. His heart thrums heavy with want.

"Who are you supposed to be?" Mika asks him as Pavel finally meanders up to him.

Pavel stares at him for a second but then he shrugs. "You know," he shouts over the music, except he doesn't know so he just mimes finger guns. He keeps forgetting he brought a plastic rifle with him.

Mika is grinning at him in a way Pavel knows clearly means he looks amusing. Pavel doesn't like looking stupid, but he likes making Mika smile.

Mika has a nice mouth. His lips are red and full.

Pavel wonders what Mika has been drinking. He wonders if he tastes like vodka.

Pavel knows he should not be staring so openly at Mika's mouth.

The vodka thinks otherwise.

"Pick a song!" yanks him out of his head long enough to realize what he had been thinking. Mika is looking at him like he is waiting for an answer. Pavel does not know what song to pick. He does not know what to do with the thoughts in his head. He just knows he needs to get away from everything as quickly as possible.

"Choose song with good beat," he says while eying the exit all the way across the club. He hears Mika mutter something but then a Eurodance song he had heard over the summer in Russia is playing and Pavel figures he did what he was asked so he can leave.

A hand on his wrist stills him. "Hey, wait!" Mika is shouting over the music. He nods towards someone in the crowd who has a cellphone out. "Smile," he says into Pavel's ear, throwing an arm across Pavel’s shoulders and pulling him close.

The vodka is insisting that Pavel’s attention focuses on the feeling of Mika’s arm around him, how close together they now are.

He finds that he can barely ignore these things he knows he should. The vodka is very influential.

Pavel forces what he hopes is a convincing smile on his face while the flash goes off a few times.

"Give me copy of picture," he says to Mika and then he pushes himself into the crowd.

 

+

It is a good picture. They both look happy. There is no evidence that Pavel was having any sort of an internal freakout.

He knows he shouldn't, but he saves it to his phone anyway.

 

+

The KZB line becomes problematic.

It is not problematic for the Rangers. It is actually one of the best lines Coach Vigneault created for the season. The Rangers are just barely winning games, but the KZB line is performing. The few times they have been shuffled around have been noticeably worse.

Mika and Chris are lighting the lamp almost every other night. Pavel has more assists than he imagined possible.

This is where the KZB line is problematic.

Being crushed into a hug by Chris is one thing. He is all large muscles and loud yelling, but he is Pavel's friend. He knows how to get under Pavel's skin, and aggressive hugs with Russian phrases seems to be the way Chris likes to go. But it is nothing but friendly teasing. Pavel knows he is safe with Chris as his friend.

It is when he feels Mika slip an arm or two around him that Pavel feels a tingling wash throughout his whole body. Mika does not hug aggressively like Chris, and if he says anything it is a few quick words of joy. But he still hugs.

His body is not as large as Chris', so he does not envelope Pavel in the same way. Instead, he fits around him in a more comforting way, like he could hold on to Pavel all night. Like they are sized exactly right for each other.

Pavel likes when Mika touches him. Even when it is a sweaty hug after a goal, or a nudge of acknowledgement out on the ice, or a shoulder bump in the locker room after a victory even though those are becoming fewer and fewer. It doesn't matter that there are thousands of people packed into the stands or everyone back home in Cherepovets could be awake and watching - _he still likes it_.

Whatever it is that is going on inside Pavel has not subsided. He is finding it harder and harder to keep his head above the ocean of feelings that seem as if they want him to drown.

 

+

It is not an easy decision. If Pavel is being honest, it is one of the harder decisions he has had to make regarding his personal life since he was twelve and he discovered that the kiss he shared with his pretty neighbor did absolutely nothing for him.

He wants to be good, for himself. For his parents. For God. For Russia.

When Mika texts him after a particularly nasty loss to come play Fifa, Pavel puts his phone to the side and does not respond.

 

+

Everything is fine in the locker room and at practice.

The KZB line is not being played as often as they were. It is fine.

Mika is still friendly to him. But he has not texted him since that night Pavel did not respond. When they talk in the locker room the conversations are stilted. When Mika smiles at him his mouth looks strained. It no longer reaches his eyes. It is fine.

It is fine.

It is fine.

It is completely and totally fine.

Pavel knows that the longer he keeps telling himself that, the more he will begin to believe it.

 

+

"You understand many things about Russia, yes?"

Chris lifts his head up, gazing at Pavel like he had forgotten they were sitting in the same room together. He was absorbed in one of those books by an author Pavel thinks he has heard of but isn't so sure. For once it is not a Russian doorstopper novel.

They have been hanging out in Chris' apartment. The holidays are nearing, and the Rangers are just barely holding on. Everything mixing together is making Pavel feel more somber than usual. He likes how New York City looks all decorated for Christmas, with all of the lights and the giant tree. Chris has even made an effort to decorate too, a small fake tree shoved in the corner and a few strands of garland strewn about.

But Pavel still feels the sadness. His family is not here and the Rangers are slumping.

He doesn't want to be alone. He is very appreciative that Chris lets him come over and just sit with him.

"I mean, I can speak your language and I read your novelists. I watch your movies and I studied some of your history in college. I don't know if it makes me an expert but I think I can keep up." Chris is smiling warmly at Pavel. "What's going on?"

The thing is, Pavel knows he shouldn't tell him. He knows he should tell no one, that his secret should stay between him and God and the silence of whatever bedroom he happens to be occupying, but. But. He is close to bursting at the seams. Pavel knows that if he does not let it out when he wants to and to who he wants to, it will break free when he does not want it to and he will be absolutely lost in the consequences.

The thing is, Pavel knows he can trust Chris.

The thing is, he misses Mika. Maybe if he gets if off his chest he can work himself towards spending time with his teammate again. Maybe if he gets it off his chest he can ignore how his feelings have not changed but put that effort into working on their friendship.

Something must have changed on his face, because Chris is suddenly leaning forward wearing a very serious expression. "What's going on, Buch?" he asks. His tone is gentle.

Pavel sighs, dropping his gaze to the floor. "You know Russia does not...it is bad to be Russian and to like men. They hate...so much. It is crime to like men. It is bad. It is so, so bad. But, Chris, I..."

The words get stuck in his throat. He waits a moment, but when nothing comes out Pavel does the only thing he can. He looks up.

Chris is staring at him with wide brown eyes. "Okay," he says. He starts nodding his head in a way that makes Pavel think he doesn't know what to do with himself. "Okay. Okay. Okay, Buch, this is...okay. You're gonna be okay. Can I...can I hug you?"

Pavel lets out a strangled noise. It takes him a moment to realize that it is a laugh of relief. When it becomes apparent that he is going to struggle to get this noise to stop, he settles on nodding his head. Chris' arms are around him, warm and solid. Pavel breathes slowly until his heart has calmed and then he allows himself to melt into his chest. Chris doesn't try to mess up his hair. He doesn't say stupid stuff in Russian. He just holds him.

Something inside him feels empty.

When Pavel pulls back he can barely see Chris.

"Oh, no," he mutters, wiping furiously at his eyes. "This is..."

"It's okay, Buch." Chris' hand is a solid pressure on his knee. He squeezes gently. "It's okay. You're okay. I support you, okay? It is totally, totally cool with me that you like guys, alright? I'm here for you."

Pavel has no idea what to say. He was not expecting this. But his secret has been received better than he had been hoping. There wasn't even a look of disgust on Chris' face.

He settles on a quiet "okay" and then allows himself to cry.

For the first time since he realized what he was, he feels safe.

 

+

Nothing changes.

Pavel wasn't sure if he was expecting them to. He still wakes up in the morning and eats the same breakfast. He still goes to practice. He still plays in hockey games that they keep losing. He still prays every single night.

Chris still beams at him like he always has. But if he looks at Pavel with just a tad more fondness than he used to, well.

Maybe that is a change. But is is a good one.

 

+

The Winter Classic is a bright spot in what looks like a bleak winter.

Pavel is not as nervous as he knows he should be. His parents are flying in, and it will be the first time they have ever left Russia. The Sabres are doing worse than they are, but there is still a chance the Rangers won’t pull off the victory they should.

But they will be playing it in a baseball stadium, and even though the weather has been colder than normal and will probably be torturous that day as well, there is the excitement of being outside and on TV in the one game all hockey fans will be watching.

Pavel is always grateful that he was born a Russian - but he is even more grateful that he knows that a cold New York winter day is nothing in comparison to the cold winters of Russia.

In a time of his life where he is so uncertain about many things, Pavel is happy he has that.

 

+

He finds his parents in the terminal at JFK, wasting no time in throwing his arms around his shaking mother. His father pats him gently on the back, and when Pavel asks how their flight was, they claim it was long but not as bad as they imagined.

He watches with an unending smile as they gaze upon the buildings of New York City, at the way they marvel at the crowds as they wander through the streets. They ask him many questions and Pavel tries to share what he has learned over the last few years.

Pavel takes them for pizza, because he does not know what else they should try that will not seem too weird, and the pizza in Russia is nothing like true pizza from New York. He deserves a treat as well, and what better time to cheat on his diet than his parents’ first visit to the States?

Pavel makes sure to introduce them to as many of the Rangers as he can. They meet Chris first, a risky but inevitable first choice. Pavel’s parents look nothing short of in awe at him as he greets them in his ever-enthusiastic Russian, and Chris gets a laugh out of his mother at his first mixed up pronunciation. Pavel pushes Chris to speak English, and his parents respond in the best English they know, which is barely better than broken.

It goes well, and his mother pulls Pavel close to whisper in his ear that she likes his nice tall American friend.

Chris beams when Pavel shares the compliment later.

 

+

They meet Mika the day of the game.

Pavel had thought very briefly about introducing his parents to Mika. He had prayed on the idea the night before, begging God to let him know if he should, half wondering why he even wanted them to know Mika in the first place.

He could never imagine letting his parents know the truth about the things he felt.

He could never imagine letting Mika know the way he felt about him.

It had been weeks since the ignored text, weeks of strained conversations on the ice and before or after games and practices. Pavel does not allow himself to speak to Mika more than he has to. Mika does not pursue him, even though Pavel catches his big brown eyes watching him from across the locker room more than he knows is normal.

Pavel will be good. He has no other choice but to be good, for God, for Russia, and for himself.

Although he knows being good is important, Pavel’s heart lurches painfully all the same.

He begs God quietly to please, please silence it.

He forces a smile onto his face anyway when they are walking down the hall to the locker rooms at Citi Field and Mika steps out of one of the side doors. Their eyes meet briefly; Mika looks like an animal who is unsure if he is being approached by friend or foe.

Pavel very much wants to be the friend, but he knows he has made himself the foe.

He slows, his parents following closely behind.

“Hi,” Mika says softly, looking from Pavel to his mother and then his father. He waves slightly, a small, very not-Mika smile on his face.

Pavel smiles back. He looks at his parents. _This is my friend Mika_ he says to them. _We play on the same line together_. _I help get him a lot of his goals. He wears 93 on my line_.

They look at at Mika for a long moment, and then Pavel’s mother’s face brightens. “Mika!” she says, reaching out to pull him into a hug. “KZB, yes, Pavel?”

Pavel’s heart stutters loudly in his chest as he watches Mika wrap his arms around his mother, a soft look on his face. He looks at the floor, nodding quickly as he tries to push the image from his mind. “Yes mama, KZB.”

“Like other boy!”

“Yes mama, like Chris.” Pavel runs through a quick mental countdown before finally chancing a look up, catching his father reaching out to shake Mika’s offered hand.

“Good boy,” his father remarks, nodding at Pavel with the same approval he has given the rest of the team.

Pavel shyly meets Mika’s eyes. He is looking at him with a soft expression on his face, though something about his eyes look sad. It is not a look Pavel is used to seeing on Mika. He cannot even begin to comprehend why he is looking that way.

“It is nice to meet you,” Mika says to Pavel’s parents slowly, carefully, and then they part, Mika to the locker room and Pavel to get his parents to their seats before he goes to change for the game.

He cannot look at Mika when they are in the locker room. He can still feel his gaze on him all the same.

 

+

Somehow, someway, they win.

There is no feeling to describe it, having his parents in the stands and a win to celebrate.

Pavel could not ask for a better visit for them. He could not ask for a better Winter Classic.

When Mika skates up to him at the end, Pavel allows himself one more happy thing from that day: he throws an arm around Mika’s neck and pulls him close.

He can feel Mika hesitate beneath him, but then a pair of arms are tight around his shoulders.

Pavel closes his eyes for a moment so brief he barely knows it passes.

“Buch,” Mika says, and he is looking at Pavel so earnestly that his heart all but stops in his chest.

But then Quickie is throwing himself at Mika, cheering loudly with a big happy grin, and Jimmy is clapping him on the back with Brady in tow and just as happily enthusiastic, and Pavel doesn’t get to know what Mika might have said.

He will spend the rest of the day fighting off thoughts of things he knows are not possible.

 

+

They are piling onto a bus to head to the arena to play against the Detroit Red Wings when Pavel notices that J.T. is not coming with them.

A few of the other guys seem to see it as well. They all look out their windows. He is still outside, talking to someone from the PR department. The bus is still being loaded as if they are going to leave without J.T.

They leave without J.T.

Pavel sits in a shocked silence next to Chris, barely able to focus on his Google search. Where is he going? Who did they get for him?

Soon Mats is announcing that they have traded Mac too.

It is with this announcement that the name Vladislav Namestnikov is first mentioned.

 

+

The text comes after the loss.

Pavel barely even glances at his phone. He is trying to ignore the crushing disappointment that is sitting like a deadweight in his chest.

He knows Vlad in passing from back home. He has always seemed very nice, quiet and unassuming. He is a decent player from the very little Pavel has seen of his career.

He had never thought he'd get to know him better than small chat at the rinks in St. Petersburg and Moscow.

The _Need a roommate? :)_ is a promise that this will all change.

 

+

Pavel has been joking with Chris for over a year about how nice it would be to have another Russian on the team, because than it will be harder for Chris to act like he knows more about being Russian than the actual Russians do. Pavel is happy to have Vlad on the team, and he is more than happy to let him live the rest of the season in his apartment as he gets used to the craziness that is New York City. Pavel tries to be as welcoming as possible, going as far as riding the subway uptown to this little Russian restaurant and buying Vlad dumplings the first night he moves in.

Vlad seems to be happy to live with him. He seems to like Pavel. He doesn't say much but he is so polite that it borders on obnoxious. But he can talk about news back home with Pavel and he will even watch T.V. with him. Pavel finds himself enjoying having someone else occupying his space, even on the nights after harder losses where neither of them say another word until the morning.

Vlad trails after him at practice. He regards Chris with wide eyes as Chris chases Pavel around the rink, yelling badly quoted text from _War and Peace_.

But it is not Chris' poor attempts at Russian that prompts Vlad to pass a comment.

It is near the end of practice when he skates up behind Pavel and leans in close. "Why is he staring at us?" he says.

Pavel allows himself a moment to bask in the sound of perfectly pronounced Russian before he realizes he actually needs to give Vlad an answer. He scans the rink quickly to see who is apparently watching them, half expecting it to be Chris.

But Chris is off in another corner with Haysie.

His eyes lock with Mika's instead.

Mika holds his gaze for a few beats too long to be normal before he turns and heads towards the other end of the rink.

Pavel's heartbeat has grown so loud that he can barely hear himself think.

"I don't know," he responds, half to Vlad and half to himself.

 

+

Pavel's feelings of safety with Chris has made him start to hang out with Chris more. They don't talk about Pavel's revelation even though Chris insists that he can if he wants to. Instead they watch movies or cook dinner. They talk hockey and Pavel's frustrations at Coach Vigneault. Chris has gotten back to trying to get him to read Tolstoy and Dostoevsky.

Chris tries to coax Vlad into coming over with Pavel. Vlad is very good at bluntly telling Chris he would rather sit in silence in Pavel's living room with no phone and nothing to look at other than the ceiling than socialize.

Pavel is glad that Chris seems to think Vlad is trying to be funny. He is even more happy that Vlad doesn't want to come over. Pavel knows he could not be relaxed with the two of them together. Chris knows things that Pavel can't even imagine trying to tell Vlad. He likes the sense of comfort Chris brings him.

Vlad being around, or even finding anything out, would ruin it.

But Pavel's feelings of comfort means he has been neglecting things elsewhere.

"Hey."

Pavel freezes. His hand is on the handle to the passenger side door of Chris' car. He can see Chris look up from where he was getting into the driver's seat. He is smiling, if a bit confused.

Pavel knows they both recognized the voice. How could they not, when Mika has been their linemate for months?

"Hey Mika," Chris calls out as he waves. "Rough practice, huh?"

"Rough doesn't even begin to describe it." There is an awkward pause that is weird for the three of them. Pavel hasn't even looked back to acknowledge that Mika is behind him. He knows he should just get in the car so he and Chris can drive back to the city. Chris will start giving him a weird look, and then he will know more than Pavel had ever intended him to.

"Chris, do you mind if I talk to Buch for a second? I promise I won't hold you up too long."

Chris shrugs, still smiling and looking even more confused. "Not a problem with me. I'll just sit in the car." He gets in, shuts the door, and then promptly leans over the armrest to stare at Pavel.

Their eyes meet through the glass. Chris is mouthing _Oh my God, Mika?_ over and over.

Pavel might have never told Chris that he liked Mika, but he did insinuate many times that there was someone he was interested in.

He is beginning to think it was a bad idea.

"Buch?"

Pavel sighs as he squares his shoulders and turns. Mika is all wrapped up in a giant coat with gloves and a scarf and a toque pulled down over his ears. He still has his gear slung over his shoulder. He looks cold.

Pavel feels a sudden urge to want to make him warm. It is so incredibly overpowering that he is surprised he does not move forward to pull their bodies together.

"Hi."

"Hey." Mika pauses as if he was not the one who asked to speak to Pavel in the first place. "I, um...are you...are we okay? Did I...did I do something?"

It takes Pavel a moment to realize what is prompting this conversation. He thought he had been acting fine during practice and in the locker room. Apparently he was very, very wrong.

Alright, Pavel _knew_ he was wrong. He isn't particularly interested in admitting it to himself.

"No, nothing is wrong," he says. "I am okay."

Mika stares at him hard. His brown eyes keep searching Pavel's face. He does not look convinced. Pavel cannot blame him.

A silence stretches between them.

"Okay, well." Mika shifts on his feet. He looks away. "I just wanted to say you can still hang out with me even though we can't play football outside anymore. You haven't come over and played Fifa in a while. It's...I thought you..."

He knew it was a stupid hope, but Pavel had been hoping Mika wouldn't have noticed his absence outside of their professional careers. It says so much about the situation that Mika _has_ noticed.

Pavel's throat is dry. He is overheating from the inside out.

Mika gently nudges his shin with his foot. "Come over," he says, and Pavel isn't sure, but he thinks he hears a hint of desperation in the words. "Please."

Their eyes meet. The way Mika is looking at him is making it hard for Pavel to breathe.

"Okay," he chokes out. "I text you?"

"Okay, yeah," Mika agrees, nodding. "Great." There is a hint of a smile now when there was nothing but caution before. "I'll talk to you soon."

And then he is gone. Pavel barely makes it into Chris' car.

There is silence.

" _Buch_."

"No questions," he moans, pressing his head against the cool glass of the window and shutting his eyes.

 

+

For the first time in a long time Pavel does not know how he wants to pray.

He sits on his knees in the darkness of his bedroom. The more the minutes pass the more pain he begins to feel. He knows he should sit back. He knows he will not until he thinks of something to say.

 _I'm sorry_ is the best he can come up with. Pavel only wishes it were true.

 

+

Mika's apartment is warm and familiar.

Everything about Mika is warm and familiar.

He is being cautious. Pavel can tell from the minute he opens the door and gives Pavel the first genuine smile that was not in response to a goal in months. But he is happy.

Pavel wonders how much Mika figured out in the few weeks that he attempted to distance himself. He wonders if Mika thought to ask Chris anything, even though he knows Chris wouldn't share Pavel's secret.

He wants to know how much Mika wanted to know. He wants to know how he feels about everything and why.

There is American beer and French wine on the kitchen counter. Mika has even gone as far as to cut up cheese and set out an assortment of crackers. Pavel stares at the arrangement with wide eyes when they enter the kitchen. It almost looks like Mika was planning a quaint get-together.

In the end Pavel sips at a Yuengling as Mika has some wine. He makes a point of stuffing his face with as many crackers as possible to avoid conversation. They haven't said much to each other since Mika first opened the door.

Everything feels too polite. It seems almost as if Mika is trying to impress him in some bizarre way.

Pavel almost drops his beer in his lap.

It cannot be possible, can it?

"I have some things I want to say." Mika is sitting on the opposite side of his sectional couch. He is resting his elbows on his knees and regarding Pavel with a very serious look.

Pavel makes a point of setting his beer down on a coaster before it actually does end up in his lap. He tries to make himself focus.

He wants to know what Mika has to say.

He also really, really doesn't want to know.

Mika seems to be struggling a bit. He keeps starting and stopping sentences. He does not stop shifting his position. Sometimes he is leaning forward, other times he is not. Sometimes he stretches his legs in a way that makes him look as if he is going to get up and move towards Pavel.

Pavel does nothing but stare at him the entire time. He doesn't know what he could do.

Mika finally ends up next to him.

There is nothing but a few inches of sectional between them.

Pavel is still frozen and still silent. His brain, however, is more active than it ever has been, and the image it keeps conjuring up is not helping Pavel figure out how to function normally again. It keeps shutting him down further.

Mika is staring at him. His brown eyes are very wide and very earnest. "What I really want to say is, I think I get what's been going on. I've thought about it a lot actually. And I think I get it."

Pavel has no idea what he is saying. All he knows is that he is frozen in place and Mika has somehow managed to get even closer. His eyes are so wide and so brown. Pavel feels as if they are sucking him in to an endless void where he will suffocate.

Mika's hand is warm against his cheek. His thumb is soft as it brushes gently against his skin. "Stop me if I'm reading this wrong," he whispers as he leans in.

The space that was there evaporates in an instant, and Pavel feels as if he is falling.

 

+

Before there was Sergei.

Sergei was from Moscow. He went to the same conditioning camp Pavel did when he was in his early teens. He was loud and brash and everyone loved him.

To this day Pavel is still not sure how and when and why it happened, but it was the dead of night. They were in their room, nothing but the flicker of Sergei's lighter shining between them. They were giggling and whispering and getting closer and closer and closer.

Somehow their mouths found each other's.

They did not speak to each other the next day, or the day after that, or any day at all.

It was after he returned to Cherepovets that Pavel began to pray.

 

+

After there is Mika.

Pavel knows he should stop this. He knows he should shoot up from the couch and run out Mika's door. He should force himself back to his apartment and onto his couch with Vlad. He should confess everything to him so Vlad can be disgusted with him and remind him how he has failed God and Russia.

But Mika's mouth is intoxicating and Pavel wants to get so drunk it kills him.

They barely pause to breathe. Mika's hands have found their way into Pavel's hair and he is holding him close, as if he is afraid Pavel is going to run.

Pavel knows he should run.

"I missed you," Mika says into what little space there is between their mouths. "When you stopped coming over, I missed you so fucking much."

Pavel knows he should run.

But he missed Mika too, even if he doesn't know how to tell him so. Instead he utters a soft moan and kisses him.

He thinks he gets the point across.

 

+

Pavel knows this is wrong.

But they somehow manage to stumble their way into Mika's room. Mika has a very large and uncommonly comfy bed. Pavel has also discovered that Mika himself is also apparently very large and uncommonly comfy.

Pavel is somehow sitting in his lap. He is not sure how that happened, but he is quickly figuring out that he doesn't really care.

Mika leans in and gently nips at his throat. Pavel's head falls back as he emits a soft moan. He lets his eyes flutter shut, focusing on the feel of Mika's mouth on his skin.

"This okay?" Mika murmurs softly, nuzzling his nose at the area where Pavel's neck meets his shoulder before he nips there too.

Pavel squeezes his eyes shut tighter, feeling another moan building up in his chest. "Feels good, yes," he responds, because it is the truth. He already liked Mika's mouth. He knows he is going to like it even more.

"You sure?" Mika prods from somewhere against his shoulder, voice muffled by Pavel's t-shirt.

Pavel knows he should not say he is sure. He knows he should be saying he didn't like it. That it was wrong. That Mika shouldn't be touching him this way. That he shouldn't have his hands tight on Pavel's hips, and Pavel shouldn't be sitting on him, and instead of marveling at how he can feel how hard Mika is beneath him, he should be ashamed.

Pavel should be on his knees in his bedroom begging for God's forgiveness. He should be asking Him to sweep these emotions away. To banish these thoughts. To be forgiven for letting himself get aroused. For letting his body do what it is supposed to in these circumstances.

Pavel knows what he should be doing and what he should be saying. But he also knows that this won't be the last time these things happen with Mika. He had tried so hard for so long to keep this from happening, but in the end his feelings never faltered.

He will pray later and he will hope for the best.

Pavel lifts his head back up and opens his eyes. Mika is looking up at him, waiting. He squeezes Pavel's hips reassuringly once their eyes make contact. There is the slightest hint of a smile on his lips.

"You can say no," he breathes out softly, his thumb brushing over the waistband of Pavel's shorts. "It's okay."

It is _not_ okay in many, many ways, but Pavel wants it anyway. "No," he says, his voice determined. "I want." He leans forward, brushing his lips gently against Mika's. "Please. Do not stop."

Mika winds one of his hands behind Pavel's head, his grip tightening on his neck. Pavel brushes their lips together again and again, until finally their mouths slot together, and they are kissing, and every nervous thought in Pavel's head goes silent.

 

+

There are moments of drowsy darkness. Pavel tries hard to keep his eyes open, to lift his head above this deep dark water of sleep, but his body is tired and he allows himself to be pulled back under each and every time.

He can feel Mika next to him, a soft and solid presence, just keeping him afloat when he can get his eyes open enough to look awake. He can feel Mika's lips brushing against his warm skin, gentle and sweet kisses against his face.

He can hear his voice, barely a rumble in the silence of the bedroom. "You did so good, Pavel," he is saying, and his praise is a soft sigh carrying Pavel to sleep. "So good. You were perfect."

Pavel is many things and he knows perfect is not one of them. But he likes the idea of being perfect to Mika. It is only another comfort to add to the bliss he is still cradled in.

He smiles softly at Mika's words and seeks out his mouth for another kiss.

 

+

Mika is so warm. He radiates heat that reminds Pavel of the warm fires set during the cold winters of his childhood. The heat was always so enticing, the flames drawing him close. His mother would wrap a blanket around his shoulders and kiss him on the top of his head, reminding him to put it out before he went to bed.

Mika is a warm fire that he wants to never go out. He is one that Pavel wants to get so close to that he will burn.

But he has a feeling that Mika will not burn him.

Pavel snuggles closer to the warmth of Mika's body. Mika is still asleep, sprawled out and loose limbed, and Pavel likes how he looks so at peace. He hopes that he looks that at peace when he sleeps.

He wonders if Mika worries about the same things that plague him.

But Mika is radiating a warm heat that is pulling Pavel close the same way the crackling fires did. He presses his chest to Mika's side and buries his face against Mika's neck.

So many hours have passed and he is still not burning.

 

+

Hours of on and off sleepiness finally wane to a quiet period of waking. Mika has not asked Pavel to leave. Pavel has been thinking that he should, but he does not want to. He would spend every waking moment in this room, with its soft light and large comfy bed and Mika.

Mika, who let Pavel sleep with him in every single way that he could.

Mika, who has not looked at him with disgust at all that day, but with a tender softness that has made Pavel's heart swell with such fondness.

Pavel knows he should have left so many times. Pavel knows that so many things can happen because of what he allowed himself to do. Pavel knows that God could punish him in ways that he will never recover from. Pavel knows that he doesn't even understand what happened or why it happened or what might happen next.

Pavel knows he could be suffering from a broken heart very, very soon.

But Mika is propping up his pillows and then he is turning on the TV, and football is on. And Croatia is playing the UK. And Pavel doesn't care much for either team, but Mika is staring at him with his big brown eyes, his arm open just wide enough for Pavel to settle himself against his chest so he can watch too.

Pavel does just that.

There is warmth and laughter and the gentle stroking of skin, and commentary and kisses and and a sudden rush of bravery as Pavel slides himself down under the covers, his heart beating furiously in his chest.

Mika's eyes never leave his the entire time.

 

+

_Home_.

_Good :)_

Pavel stares at the text and the smiley face and he cannot help but smile back.

 

+

Vlad does not say anything to him when he comes in. He is relaxing on the couch with his feet propped up and his phone in hand. The TV is on to some show Pavel doesn't recognize.

Their eyes meet across the den very briefly. Pavel watches as Vlad does a quick sweep of him, his gaze searching.

It drops back to his phone.

Pavel shuffles off inside for a shower. He waits until the bathroom is so thick with steam that he can barely see before he gets in.

He is not trying to burn himself, but the scorching water on his skin feels good. He sticks his head under the spray, growing hot, and he half thinks about drowning.

But then he thinks of Mika.

Pavel slumps to the wood floor of his bedroom that night, bone-tired but knowing that he has to pray.

 _I know I should be sorry_ , he begins. _But I am not sorry_.

He lifts himself onto his bed and allows the darkness of a dreamless sleep to swallow him whole.

 

+

He gets to practice early the next day and rushes to change. He can feel Chris' eyes on him and he knows that he is wondering why Pavel is going so fast, and he knows he is struggling to contain himself from asking.

He has to get out of the locker room before Mika arrives. "Talk later," he mutters to Chris, hoping that will be enough to keep his friend quiet.

Pavel bursts onto the ice and zips around, skating lap after lap while his teammates file on the ice after him. He watches as Vlad skates on, and their eyes meet, but just like the last night and this morning, he doesn't look as though he wants to say anything.

Mika comes on near the end, barely beating out Hank and Haysie.

Pavel feels his heart jump into his throat as he looks away, skating behind Staalsie to wait for the drills to begin.

Practice is fairly normal, even though it feels as if they are being run into the ground as punishment for all of their losses. The word "rebuild" is said over and over, but Pavel tries not to focus too much on what it means and what it could mean.

It is still weird that Nasher, Grabs, Mac, Holds, and J.T. are all gone.

He is waiting at the face-off zone, watching Chris wrestle with Mats over a loose puck, when he feels a double tap on the back of his shin.

Pavel barely has time to look over before Mika is passing him. He doesn't look up as he continues on, but Pavel can see the small smile on his lips.

His heart begins to hammer hard from a different type of adrenaline.

 

+

Pavel keeps his eyes closed, focusing on the sound beneath his ear. Mika's heartbeat is soft and slow, but it is steady. Pavel likes being able to listen. He finds that the sound of it beating soothes him.

Mika is running the tips of his fingers up and down his spine. They are curled together, and they are warm, and Pavel is already exhausted but the tingling sensation Mika is drawing to life on his skin makes him think that maybe he could go again.

It is both enthralling and terrifying how quickly it seems Mika has learned what to do to make Pavel feel good. It is even more enthralling and terrifying that Pavel is enjoying himself so much.

A thought beings to bubble to life in his brain. He looks up at Mika's face, unsurprised to find Mika's dark eyes on him.

They smile softly at each other, Pavel's heart doing loops in his chest.

"Can I ask question?" he breathes quietly into the silence they have created. Mika raises an eyebrow but he nods, resting his hand on the small of Pavel's back.

Pavel inhales deeply, closing his eyes. "You think...you think God, would He...I like you so much, but in Russia, men...I do not want Him to hate me, do you think He..."

The words get stuck in this throat. He can feel Mika's hand against his face, stroking his cheek, brushing the hair off his forehead. "Hey," he whispers, and Pavel squeezes his eyes even tighter before he opens them.

"Do you want to know what I honestly think?"

Pavel nods slowly.

"I think He loves you all the same."

 

+

"So you and Mika," Chris begins, pausing to take a sip of his IPA. He raises one eyebrow at Pavel when he does not venture a response and leans forward on the table. "Are...?"

They are at a restaurant in the meatpacking district. It is one of those Asian fusion type places that Chris loves and Pavel is still trying to navigate. No one has approached them yet, although the hostess did seem to linger at their table a bit longer than seemed normal. Pavel will be very grateful if no one recognizes them. He is currently grateful for how dark and loud the restaurant is. At least Chris put that much thought into what he was trying to do.

"It is...thing," he replies, because he doesn't know what they are exactly. Mika has not ignored him during practice or in the locker room and their line is as flawless as ever. They spend time together almost every night that they can.

So it is a thing.

"What type of thing?" Chris pushes, because he is Chris and it would not be Chris if he wasn't pushing Pavel. "Are you two, like..."

"We have..." Pavel makes a quick motion with his hand. He takes a quick sip of his beer while Chris gazes at him with both eyebrows raised instead of just the one. "Few time."

"Wow. I can't believe my linemates are..." and he pauses to make the same quick motion as Pavel, staring at his hand in disbelief. "Wow."

"It is not official thing, it is just thing. We just...I think he like me, but I do not know how."

Chris snorts. "I'm trying to be gentle here, Buch, but if you two are sleeping together I think it's safe to say he likes you."

Pavel sighs loudly. "It is not that easy, Chris."

"Okay, fair. So let's assume he likes you. How do you feel?"

The restaurant seems to be warm all of a sudden. Pavel takes a swig from his beer, wondering when the chatter of everyone around them got so loud.

"You like him."

Pavel thinks it is a question at first, but he realizes from the expression on Chris' face that it is not. He drops his gaze to the glass clutched tightly in his hands. He notes that they are shaking.

Pavel knows Chris wants an answer, so he just nods his head.

"Are you okay with that?"

He tightens his grip on his beer to try to get his hands to stop shaking. He is okay with Mika. He is more than okay with Mika, and how good Mika has been to him, and how Mika makes him feel. He likes to spend time with him, to play Fifa or to watch football and hockey. He likes when he can fall asleep in his bed and not hurry home to his apartment to be met with Vladislav's inquiring gaze and lack of comment. He likes when Mika tells him he will be okay.

"If people home know," he raises his gaze to meet Chris' eyes, "I do not know what would happen to me."

 

+

Vlad is sitting on a stool in the kitchen when he returns home.

Pavel stops in the doorway. Vlad is in the flannel pants and sweatshirt he has been wearing to bed and he pauses in the middle of eating a bowl of cereal to gaze at Pavel.

There is silence. Pavel knows they are both stubborn Russians. The silence could last for an eternity.

"Pavel-"

"I was with Kreids."

"I know. He told me."

Pavel blinks slowly. "Then what do you have to say?"

Vlad sets down his late night snack. He places his elbows on the countertop, folding his hands together. His blue eyes regard Pavel sternly. "This is hard for me. But I want to say it."

Pavel breathes in a shaky breath. He wants to close his eyes and block Vlad right out, but he knows it would be a sign of weakness. He cannot let Vlad think he is weak. "I know you know about me. And you can hate me. It is okay."

"I don't hate you," Vlad clarifies quickly. Something on his face softens slightly. "You are a good person, Pavel. You have been a good roommate and you are a great teammate. I don't agree with what you...like. But I don't hate you. And I want you to know that even though I don't like...it, I like you. So I am okay with...it. When it is you, at least."

"Okay." Pavel blinks quickly. Something is wrong with his eyes. "Okay."

"I don't want to...hear anything, or see anything, but...just don't be stupid."

"Okay." His eyes feel so, so strange.

"Okay." Vlad nods at him, looking back down at his cereal. He spoons a large amount of Cheerios in his mouth and begins to crunch loudly.

Pavel knows when a conversation is over, so he turns for his bedroom. He barely has his door shut before he rests his forehead against the cold wood and starts to cry.

 

+

"Is it okay?"

Chris glances at him from the driver's seat. They are carpooling to practice. Pavel had been too tired to drive. There was too much twisting around inside him to concentrate on the road and obnoxious American drivers. The ones with the ugly yellow plates were especially bad.

"What?"

"Mika. That I..." and he trails off.

"I don't see why not. You know I support the both of you and your thing."

Chris has been supportive. In his own weird way, but he has. Pavel is acutely aware of this. "My feelings," he tries again. "I...I have many feelings for him."

"Okay." Chris keeps his focus trained on the road. Nothing on his face betrays any particular emotion towards Pavel's admission. Pavel is mildly miffed at this. Usually Chris fails at hiding his emotions. This is the one time Pavel actually wanted him to show his true feelings and he's playing everything straight.

"You disappoint," Pavel grumbles, folding his arms across his chest.

Chris grins so hard in response his eyes crinkle into slits. "I don't think you need to be telling me all of this, Buch. I'd suggest telling Mika. He'd probably be happy knowing that you like him so much."

Pavel has thought about telling Mika. He's thought about it many, many times. He wants to do it. But it is scary. Once he has admitted everything he cannot take it back. He cannot hide what he wants or who he is if he is so open about his feelings with another man.

But it is Mika. Just that thought alone sets a quiet fire of determination in Pavel's heart.

He looks at Chris, who is still grinning, and he finds he cannot help but smile himself. "Maybe I tell Mika," he says, and he is surprised to find that he means it.

 

+

"This is good," Mika says to him. He has his hand pressed to Pavel's from the tips of their fingertips to the bottom of their palms. Pavel marvels at how their hands are the same size. He likes that they are.

"Is good that hands are big?"

Mika laughs softly. "It probably is," he agrees as he adjusts his fingers so he is now holding Pavel's hand. "But no. This." And he very gently presses their shoulders together.

This, as in _this thing_. This thing that has no name but has been existing for some time now. This thing that Pavel can't believe has gone on so well for so long. This thing that Pavel somehow has been given, even though it is the last thing he thinks he deserves.

There are mornings he wakes and is surprised that he is allowed to live his life like this.

He does not know how Russia has not found out.

He does not know how God is letting this happen.

He just knows that he is so thankful that it is.

Pavel can feel his throat drying up. "Is good," he whispers back. "I am happy."

 

+

They are curled up on the couch in Pavel's apartment watching football. Vlad is out for the afternoon, but he knows that Pavel was having someone over. He just doesn't know that it is Mika.

He gave Pavel a strained smile on the way out the door. Pavel knows it is better than nothing. He knows it is good that Vlad is even trying.

"Did you know," Mika begins, nuzzling the side of Pavel's head, "that Sweden is really, really accepting of LGBTQ people? Like we're one of the most progressive countries when it comes to gay rights."

Pavel is not used to hearing these words in English. He knows what they sound like in Russian. They are harsh. They are pronounced as if they are being spit out of the mouth. They are as bad as the foul words Pavel's mother used to scold him for using when he was a child. And there are certainly no "rights" involved with them.

But they are much, much softer not in the Russian tongue. Mika speaks them in a way that reminds him of how he is with Pavel when they are intimate: he says them delicately, with a tenderness that is meant to be soothing.

Pavel likes how they sound. They sound almost as if it could be okay to be that way.

He twists slightly to look at Mika directly. Mika is gazing back at him with a very serious expression on his face. "I am know of that, yes," he says. "Why?"

Mika shrugs. "I just wanted you to know." His gaze drops down to his lap. Pavel watches as his cheeks tint a faint red. "Incase you ever come to Sweden. You'd be safe with me."

There is an invitation there. Pavel might not have heard the words outright but there is an invitation there. He is so, so certain. To say that his insides have grown so light he feels as if he could float right off the couch doesn't even begin to describe what is going on inside him.

"Okay," he whispers back.

Mika raises his eyes and there is a hope there that Pavel has never seen before.

He begins nodding his head very quickly. "Okay," he says again. He leans in and presses a kiss to Mika's lips. "Okay," he repeats, and Mika is cradling his head in his hands, and Pavel leans down to press kisses against his neck, and then he is leaning into Mika, and Mika is holding him so close and lovingly.

His heart does not stop singing the entire time.

 

+

He tries a different prayer that night.

It is a simple one, and it is honest, and it is straight from Pavel's heart:

 _God, thank you for him_.

 

+

The kids are called up at the end of the season.

The Rangers are out of the playoffs. They have been for a while now, but the math just made everything official. Pavel's heart sinks all the same.

It doesn't stay sunk for too long, though. Having Mika makes the last few weeks of their season so much easier to handle than last year.

Pavel remembers Filip from the beginning of the year. He is on the quieter side, but he sits around with a big smile on his face and a surprising amount of cocky confidence for someone who doesn't seem to have much to say.

Lias is a different story. He is loud with bold smiles and a cheerful laugh that never seems to stop. He assimilates himself onto the team almost immediately, chirping Hank in brisk Swedish as if he has known the man his entire life.

The team is amused by the pair. It almost feels like some life is being breathed back into the team. It is just enough to keep them going strong for a little while longer.

Mika is very inviting to both of them. Lias is extra appreciative of the invites to post-practice dinners. Pavel can tell by the way he thanks Mika over and over again whenever he gets asked. He even comes around to play Fifa for a bit. Pavel observes him talking quietly with Filip before they accept any invitations. Where one goes, the other follows. He had always had the impression that they were good friends over social media.

There is something in the way that Filip looks at Lias that makes Pavel pause a bit.

It is familiar. Too, too familiar.

He points it out to Mika one night as they are walking back to his car after practice.

"The children," he whispers into Mika's ear. Their shoulders brush together as Mika looks back. Lias and Filip are chatting outside of Quickie's car. Quickie is half in his trunk, three bags of gear at his feet.

From the distance Pavel cannot hear what they are talking about. But he can see that Lias is beaming at Filip so brightly that even the sun would be jealous of his light. Filip's face is all sorts of soft and fond.

They are just shy of being too obvious.

"Wow," Mika remarks as he turns back to Pavel. He bumps their shoulders together. "You think we were that bad?"

Pavel bumps back. "Is not good thing if we was."

"Well you wake up every morning and the world hasn't ended. I think we're just fine." They are at the trunk of Mika's car. He fumbles in his pocket for his keys. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"Why is that?" Unlike the two rookies, Pavel actually helps his ride get their things into the trunk. It doesn't hurt that he is hopelessly in over his head for Mika.

"Well, I know you have your fears. And they're totally justified. But you're handling everything really well. It makes me really happy to be your boyfriend."

Happiness explodes inside Pavel so abruptly that he is surprised to find that he is still standing. This thing between him and Mika that has been going on for months has never had a name. Pavel had never even dared to think of putting one to it. He just knew everything had been going unimaginably well.

But boyfriend just sounds right. To be able to even think that he has one of those is almost too much for Pavel. The fact that it's Mika Zibanejad elevates it to an entirely different level.

He tries hard not to beam the entire ride home. Judging by the little smiles Mika keeps shooting him, he knows exactly what he's done.

 

+

The season ends with a whimper.

That's how Chris describes it. He enters the locker room after their unbelievably embarrassing loss to the Flyers. Everyone is sitting in a stunned silence. Cheers of happy Philadelphia fans can still be heard out above the ice. Their happiness almost seems mocking in its loudness.

"That's the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but a whimper."

It takes a moment for anyone to react. Than there is the sound of a few groans. A sock comes flying across the room and whacks Chris in the head.

"Shut up Kreids. Even I know what poem that's from," Haysie grumbles. Chris frowns at him and tosses his sock back across the room.

"Russian poet?" Pavel asks him. The words are familiar but he does not know who wrote them.

"It's Eliot," Jimmy shouts from a few stalls down. "If you'd ever taken a college English class, he would have haunted your nightmares."

Pavel has never taken a college English class. He barely wanted to take an English class when he was at school in Russia. He is glad that he does not know what it is like to have this man named Eliot haunt his dreams. "So not Russian poet? I disappoint," he says to Chris.

Chris rolls his eyes, but there is a hint of a smile. "If it were written by a Russian, than the world would definitely be going out with a bang."

"America would shoot nuke first. I bet you."

"I dunno Buch, we're not the ones parading around our weapons like we can't wait to fire them off."

"Is because our nukes is bigger than your nukes. You just jealous your nuke is small."

"Kreids probably does have a small nuke," Brady remarks as he passes by them from the showers. "I bet he doesn't get much of a firing range either."

There is another pause.

The laughter erupts with no warning. Even Chris joins in.

So the season may have ended with a whimper. Pavel is happy to see his team is content with going out with a bang.

 

+

The one thing that Pavel does not like about the end of the season is that he is going home to Russia and Mika is going home to Sweden.

They have talked about arranging visits. Pavel does not think it is a good idea for Mika to come to Russia even though he is open to the idea. Pavel appreciates that he is. He knows that as long as they keep their distance and do nothing, no one will know that there is anything going on.

He knows that. But it is hard to convince a part of him that Russia will somehow not be able to figure it out anyway.

He wants to keep Mika safe. He knows that they would both be safe in Sweden. In Sweden, Mika is still Mika Zibanejad. In Sweden, Pavel is not Pavel Buchnevich. He is just some random guy on the streets with Mika. Mika might get some attention. Pavel knows he would command next to none from the average passerby.

What he does like about the end of the season is that Mika is very demanding of his time. Pavel is lucky that Vlad is still not questioning where he is going for long stretches of time. Although they are not close, Pavel finds that he can trust his fellow countryman.

Vlad could have caused a ton of trouble for him already. It says so much about the type of person he is that he hasn't.

He spends the better half of the last few days before his flight out cuddling with Mika on his couch. Sometimes they have the T.V. on, other times they lie in silence. Sometimes they find themselves drifting off into the bedroom. There is nothing urgent in how they are together. Mika is as soft and gentle as ever.

"You know what I like best?" Pavel mutters into the soft fabric of Mika's t-shirt.

He is curled against his side as always, Mika's arm wrapped securely around his back. "What, alskling?"

Pavel does not know what that word means. He knows it's Swedish. Mika has only been using it the last few weeks. He wants to know, but he figures Mika will tell him when he wants him to know. "This. When you hold me."

Mika's gaze drifts from the T.V. to Pavel's face. Pavel stares up at him from where he is resting his head against Mika's chest. He likes seeing how warm his eyes get whenever Pavel says something sweet to him. "Oh yeah? Good. I like holding you."

"Is peaceful. I feel...safe."

Mika's arm tightens around him. "Good, alskling. That's what I want for you."

 

+

They both end up going to Worlds.

Pavel is excited to be playing for Russia. He is even more excited that Mika will be there with Sweden. He knows that the kids are both going too, and Chris for the U.S.A.

He and Mika do not get much time together. Pavel wasn't expecting them to. He is just happy to be on the receiving end of Mika's smiles. He is just happy to be able to hear the sound of his voice instead of imagining his texts being said aloud.

Pavel's bad English does not make texting particularly fun. He does what he can with what he has.

Lias trails after Mika a lot. He is friendly to Pavel, but his smile is not as bright as Pavel had gotten used to. He looks detached, his blue eyes shifting across the faces in the crowd when Pavel and Mika make time to chat. It is almost as if he is not used to navigating the professional life of a hockey player without a certain Czech by his side.

"He is struggling," Pavel points out to Mika one of the days when Lias has drifted off to talk to one of the other Swedes, a Lindholm, even though Pavel doesn't know which one, "he is following you like baby and mother."

"Hey, I'm trying to help him out! At least he's playing well." Mika smiles warmly at Pavel. "I'm familiar to him, and I've been in this position before. And I get what's going on at that other level."

"Does he know that you know of that level?" Pavel asks. He knows Mika wouldn't just willingly offer that information to just anybody. Chris is the only one who knows the whole picture. Pavel is suspicious that Quickie might have an idea that something's up too, but he doesn't think Jesper knows who it is that Mika is with.

"I don't think so. When he isn't talking about how he wants to play better hockey, he finds ways to keep mentioning Filip. It's kind of cute actually. He's just lucky that I'm not a huge asshole."

"Are you going to tell him that you...?" and he trails off not for a lack of words, but because he does not want to utter them aloud.

Mika reaches out and very quickly touches the top of Pavel's hand. "I won't say anything about you. I promise."

"Thank you." He gives Mika the most genuine smile he can offer him.

Lias meanders back over. "Pavel, hi!" he says, a friendly smile on his face. "Sorry about your loss. That sucks."

Pavel had been busy trying to forget that Russia was no longer in the tournament. He knows that Lias wasn't trying to be mean by mentioning it. He was very lucky that Mika's presence kept him in a good mood. "It is..." and then he waves his hand, shrugging. "Can do nothing about it."

"Well we're gonna do our best to try and win in honor of the Rangers." Lias' enthusiasm is almost too much. Pavel can see Mika grinning out of the corner of his eye.

"You are too nice, Lias. World is not as nice," he remarks. Lias blinks at him slowly. "I appreciate your effort. I bet Czech Republic appreciate it too."

Mika nudges Pavel while rolling his eyes as Lias colors a bright red. "Well, you know," he says, flailing slightly. "For all of our teammates here. Filip too."

Pavel bets Filip would want something more than just a gold medal from Lias. It is pretty obvious that Lias would give him that and then some. He is very pretty when he is flustered.

"Stop torturing the rookie, Buch," Mika chides. "I need him to play with a clear head tomorrow."

"Is just doing job of older teammate. Chris still think I his rookie. You are lucky," he says to Lias, "that you have Mika and not Chris. Mika is best. Chris is like bad nightmare that never ends."

"I thought you guys were friends."

"We are. But..."

"We don't talk about Kreids talking in Russian," Mika supplies, putting an arm around Pavel's shoulders in mock comfort. Pavel knows that it is for show, but the contact makes his insides sing in ways they have not since New York. "It is very painful for Buch."

The door to the concourse opens behind them. "You guys gotta be talking about me!" Chris yells out as he rushes over, the rest of Team U.S.A. walking in behind him.

Pavel groans loudly as he is smushed between his friend and boyfriend. He is happy that they were linemates for the better part of last season. He doesn't think Lias will think it is weird if he very briefly buries his head against Mika's shoulder as he pretends to be pulling away from Chris.

 

+

Chris sends him the picture before it appears on Mika's instagram. _JEALOUS???_

Pavel takes a few minutes to just look at the picture of Mika and Chris at a table in Stockholm. _Of lack of hair? No. You look like newborn baby_.

 _:o You're killing me Buch_.

 _Don't make me make wish_.

He receives a separate text from Mika.

_Kreids being mean to you?_

_No. Picture is cute. I am glad you spend time with your "bae"_.

_I can't wait until my real bae visits me in a few weeks!_

Chris texts him again.

_You're spending time with Mika without me??? Buch I thought what we had was special! :'(_

_You disappoint_.

 _Love you too, Buch_.

 

+

He tries to ignore a lot of the post-celebratory pictures and video that come out of Sweden's win at Worlds.

It doesn't help that he is synched up to every one of Lias' social media accounts.

He honestly enjoys seeing all of the pictures of Mika with his medal. He is such a good player and he has worked so hard to get where he is in the NHL. After the way the season ended with the Rangers, there is no one else on the team that Pavel would think deserves a medal more than Mika.

Drunk Lias is admittedly entertaining too.

He just doesn't like how cozy the young Swede looks with his boyfriend, all bleary-eyed and enthusiastic and soft.

 

+

He goes to Sweden at the end of July.

Mika has barely closed the door to his apartment before Pavel is dropping his bags and throwing his arms around him.

He just wants to hold on to Mika as tightly as he can. It has been a long summer, and the weeks after Worlds felt as if they had gone on forever. Not even the Fifa World Cup had been able to occupy his attention as much as Pavel wanted it to.

Mika doesn't make any moves to let him go. His arms are wrapped around Pavel just as tightly.  
It takes Pavel a minute to realize he is shaking.

"What's wrong, alskling?" Mika mutters softly into his ear.

It has been a few months since Pavel has heard his nickname spoken aloud. It is as if he is hearing it for the first time ever. He clings to Mika even tighter. "I missed you."

 

+

What Pavel wanted to say was _I love you_.

It was a slow epiphany over the many weeks of the off-season. Once Pavel had thought over his feelings enough and finally gotten everything sorted into words, the ones he realized best described how he was feeling for Mika were not what he was expecting.

It is like he has been punched.

Love is as foreign to him as the English language was.

He supposes that he was able to at least understand some of that. Perhaps he will somehow learn to understand this.

 

+

"You and Lias," he tries to begin over dinner one night. It is not a conversation Pavel wants to have with Mika, but the pictures and videos from Worlds have a habit of invading his brain when he has been thinking too much.

Mika doesn't even look up from his food. "I tried to keep him from getting too drunk. I still ended up holding him over a toilet anyway. After that happened he laid on the floor, whined for a bit, and then told me he liked Filip and didn't know what to do about that."

Pavel hadn't actually thought about what direction this conversation might be going in, but he is very happy that this is the one it is.

"I offered him some advice. And now he calls me bror." Mika is meeting his gaze across the table. He looks amused. "I only have eyes for you, alskling. Don't worry."

Pavel feels the warmth of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "What is bror?"

"Brother, in Swedish. So. Nothing to worry about."

"And alskling?"

Mika holds Pavel's gaze for a moment before looking back down at his plate. Pavel notes the hint of color rising in his cheeks. "I'll tell you soon. But not yet."

 

+

Soon comes in September, when they have returned to New York to begin training.

Pavel is excited for the start of the new season. There is a new coach, and he seems to want to give Pavel a fair shot at showing his value to the team. For this Pavel is grateful.

He is excited to see his teammates again - even Chris. And especially Mika.

Seeing him across the room at Shatty's apartment for the team welcome back dinner makes his insides do all sorts of tumbling and leaping.

They can hug without looking suspicious. Even when they hold each other a bit longer than would seem normal, no one pays attention.

"Come over after?" Pavel whispers in his ear as they part.

The invite makes Mika's eyes glow bright and happy.

He is pulled into a conversation with Vlad and Mats about the World Cup. Both of them regard him warmly. Vlad's smile looks even friendlier and more genuine than usual.

Pavel doesn't know what is making it different. He is just happy to see that Vlad still likes him.

He observes Lias rushing over to Mika at one point, leaning in just close enough to be having a private conversation with him. His face is earnest and bright and he is radiating a happiness that makes it obvious to Pavel why his mood seems better than usual.

He had seen some things online about Lias and Filip being in New York after the draft. They had posted tons of pictures together, and Filip had been especially complimentary of Lias in the few interviews Pavel had taken the time to watch.

After he spills his gossip to Mika, Lias wastes no time in zipping back across Shatty's den to where Filip is sitting on the couch watching Brady and Jimmy play Fornite. Filip looks up at him, and his smile makes Lias' look lackluster in comparison.

Pavel is honestly a bit surprised when Lias sits next to Filip instead of on him.

The two of them leave early and together. Pavel made a point of watching them go.

He isn't completely certain, but Pavel thinks he saw Filip grab Lias' hand as he was closing the door.

 

+

Soon comes that night, when they have left Shatty's after a filling dinner and hours of laughter.

Pavel has tried to make his apartment seem more like a home this season. He wants things to be nicer for Vlad this year, all of the comforts of their Russian upbringing available whenever he might need to seek them out. He wants things to be nicer for Chris this year, so maybe he will heft over some of those large Russian novels so they can read together and work on Chris' pronunciations.

He wants things to be nicer for Mika this year. Mika's apartment has always felt like a home for Pavel. Pavel wants his own world to be as open and inviting for Mika too.

He wants it to be another home. Pavel has never opened up that door to anyone before. Now he wants to leave it open all the time for Mika.

They wind up cuddling in his bed. His room is dark and quiet. Vlad is already asleep down the hall. He had seen Mika follow Pavel in. Vlad had looked at them for a long moment before purposefully seeking out just Pavel's gaze. He nodded once, giving them the smallest of smiles, and then disappeared behind his bedroom door.

A peacefulness settles over Pavel's heart. He will talk with Vlad about everything, because he owes Vlad as much. He is just so thankful that Vlad is a good person.

When he prays now, he thanks God for Mika and for good friends like Chris and Vlad.

He thanks Him for allowing Pavel to be happy.

Pavel is still learning to accept everything. But here, in the darkness of his room, Mika a steady and real warmth around him, Pavel knows he will be okay. He knows things might get hard at some point, that people who love him may struggle to understand what is going on, but he will do his best to push through.

It has worked well so far for hockey. Pavel is cautiously optimistic it will do the same in his personal life.

And he knows he has Mika to support him, and for Pavel, he knows exactly what words to use to express everything Mika has given him.

He wraps his arms around Mika and pulls him close. "I want to tell you something," he whispers slowly. Pavel wants every single word of English to come out as correct as possible.

Mika shifts even closer. His nose brushes against Pavel's neck, followed by his mouth. Pavel shivers. "Me first, alskling. I promised I would let you know what that meant."

Pavel wants to keep going, but it is hard when he has desired to know the meaning of the mysterious Swedish word for months. He presses a light kiss to Mika's lips. "Okay. What?"

One of Mika's hands comes to rest against the side of his face. "In Sweden, 'alskling' is a very special word that you save for someone who is important to you. In English, it is very similar to the word 'darling'."

"So I am darling?" Pavel asks. It has always seemed like a sweet word. Pavel likes it.

He can feel Mika chuckling. "Let me finish!" He is now stroking the skin of Pavel's neck. There is something nervous in the motion, even though Mika does not seem to be nervous. "People will call anyone 'darling' in English. It doesn't always mean anything special. In Sweden, though, when we call someone our 'alskling', it is because they are someone we love."

Pavel is happy it is dark out. He does not want Mika to see the emotions that are spilling across his face. He is very certain he might start to cry, and he also thinks that his brain is malfunctioning, and it is very possible that his heart has stopped beating.

"I love you, Pavel," he breathes out so softly Pavel is not even sure Mika spoke at all.

There is no way that Mika just told him he loved him.

But Mika absolutely told him he loved.

Pavel's insides are so light. "я люблю тебя, Mika," he says into the dark space where Mika professed his love.

It was supposed to be in English. Pavel doesn't really remember how to speak English at the moment. He hopes the Russian suffices.

"я люблю тебя," he says again, and then their lips collide, hands frantically roaming across every inch of each other that they can reach. He does not think he has enough of Mika beneath his hands. He is completely certain that he will never have enough of Mika, in every single way.

Pavel lets Mika lay him out, work his way down his body with gentle kisses. His skin is on fire at every press of Mika’s lips. He can feel his thoughts growing hazy as every second passes. To be able to give himself to Mika in the way that he can is not something Pavel would have ever thought he would be capable of doing, but Mika makes his guard go down in a way Pavel knows still means he is safe.

They stay as quiet as they can, and Pavel basks in the way Mika makes his body feel. Later, when they have returned to the intimacy of holding each other, Pavel allows his emotions to take hold of his brain and his heart.

He had never thought he would be given the chance to know what it was like to be in love and to be loved in return.

With Mika, everything is possible.

Pavel is very grateful for that.

 

_fin_


End file.
